


Do you love me? I do, I do

by Slits



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slits/pseuds/Slits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kiss was sloppy and the inside of Shingo’s mind probably resembled a battlefield with warriors, soldiers and cornered in one angle his last piece of sanity yelling him to stop all this crap, for fuck’s sake, and put his fifty feet of tongue in any other’s throat but Yokoyama’s one.<br/>Shingo obliged and stopped (the little man in his head clapped and sat on the ground).<br/>- “Do you love me?” – he asked for the third time in the evening.<br/>- “I do.” – deadpan, Yokoyama gave the usual answer.<br/>Fun fact: when they woke up almost eighteen hours before the accident, Shingo was very fond on girls with small breast and thighs a little bit oversized and hadn’t a single thought about his coworker during the whole week.<br/>Yokoyama, on the other hand, had a girlfriend waiting for him to come back to Takami after the end of the recording and a whole stock of lesbian porn well hidden under the couch.<br/>Life is the son of someone well known on the sidewalk.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you love me? I do, I do

The kiss was sloppy and the inside of Shingo’s mind probably resembled a battlefield with warriors, soldiers and cornered in one angle his last piece of sanity yelling him to stop all this crap, for fuck’s sake, and put his fifty feet of tongue in any  
other’s throat but Yokoyama’s one.  
Shingo obliged and stopped (the little man in his head clapped and sat on the ground).  
\- “Do you love me?” – he asked for the third time in the evening.  
\- “I do.” – deadpan, Yokoyama gave the usual answer. His eyes were unfocused but his voice was firm and the grip of his fingers around the collar of Shingo’s old washed t-shirt incredibly steady for someone in his condition.  
\- “Do you?” -  
\- “I do.”  
Fun fact: when they woke up almost eighteen hours before the accident, Shingo was very fond on girls with small breast and thighs a little bit oversized and hadn’t a single thought about his coworker during the whole week, except that time when Yoko called him, asking if he had taken his house keys by mistake, and Shingo answered him to try to look for them up in his ass and possibly put his whole body in. Shingo wasn’t a gentle person after three in the morning.  
Yokoyama, on the other hand, had a girlfriend waiting for him to come back to Takami after the end of the recording and a whole stock of lesbian porn well hidden under the couch.  
Life is the son of someone well known on the sidewalk.

It all started during the recording for Janiben. Shingo always found kinda funny how things worked for his coworkers in the agency and how instead did their very best to screw up his life in his case: from the hosting job his colleagues gained respect and admiration, respectively from the staff and fans and in more than a case from the both of them.  
In over twelve years of hardworking all this job gave to Shingo instead were a ridicule nickname, six asses unable to talk to any female without speaking at her breast and a cat, which also happens to be a very stupid kid. But Shingo never complained: he loved his job and felt a rush of respect for his band mates every time guests laughed, full-bodied, voice high-pitched and hands over the knees, at their jokes.  There was something more than being pros in their ways of working and Shingo truly respected this.  
Or at least he was very good at convincing himself.  
That’s why when the weekly guest proposed to try his new technique on one of guys Shingo didn’t even flinch (he actually did, but just to not being hit by the beard of the dandy guy and possibly save himself from losing an eye because the impact of the shells in the hair of the man and his face). The staff could be on high most of the times, he reminded himself, but they know what they do.  
Subaru proposed Ohkura because it was time “the kid learns his place and stop being just the tall dude of the group” but the drummer just shook his head and lazily raised his hand, pointing his index towards Nishikido.  Ryo jumped on his seat and Ohkura smiled a knowing smile and Shingo suddenly remembered every single bad thing Ryo had ever done to the drummer, starting from that morning quarrel about lunch boxes. Ohkura kept fiercely eye contact and Shingo glared at him, just to make clear his opinion about the whole thing. Keep your shit out of the job, was his message.  
Ohkura crossed his arms over the chest and grinned. Keep your opinion out of what I eat, his eyes said and that ended pretty much the argument.  
Then Yokoyama told Ryo to stop being a chicken and start acting as a man already (his Adam’s apple moving up and down under the pink scarf around his neck) and Ryo retorted something.  
And so Yokoyama ended up being hypnotized.  
It was fun at first. Yoko fell unconsciousness almost immediately, arms spread as Jesus Christ and head dangling back. He was also drooling, but none of the guys had the heart to point it out. The dandy guy then encouraged the members the propose strange commands and Ohkura asked tentatively if Yoko could impersonate Subaru, because he thought it could be fun and mostly because he saw the concern in Shingo’s eyes at the very moment the host spotted Subaru opening his mouth to say something. The dandy guy touched Yoko’s shoulder and the man accomplished, veins popping all over his neck and desperate, high-pitched voice almost breaking the camera’s glass. When the roar of laughs in the studio quieted dandy guy touched Yoko’s shoulder again and the man fell back on the couch as nothing happened.  
There was something bothering Maru and Shingo knew pretty much what it was. Every time the group went out, those one/two times per year, he could guess just by staring at the look in Maru’s eyes what was bothering him. What he wanted to see (things Shingo honestly thought be dirty), what he wanted them to do (things Shingo probably would confess if he believed in any kind of god) and how he wanted the both of them – he and Yoko - to do them (with enough saliva to fill a couple of lakes and probably the whole Pacific ocean). Maru had his own, strange fetishes and spending together over fifteen years of their lives has taught Shingo to recognize the exact moment when they were crossing his mind just by looking at the look in his eyes. So he saw the look and decided to keep quiet for the sake of whatever kind of crap they were trying to host. It was a wise decision. Shingo was a wise man.  
\- “Maru what’s bothering you?”  
Subaru, on the other hand, was the son of a bitch.  
Maru jumped out of his skin, probably didn’t expecting the question, and then stared vaguely at Yoko’s direction (he was lying still unconscious on the coach, Ohkura lazily playing with one of his arm).  
\- “I was thinking. What- how.” he stayed silent for a moment, probably trying to find better words to evaluate all the gross gay porn crossing his mind. He eventually gave up (no good words can evaluate a dirty thought anyway) and pointed his whole hand towards Shingo, a sympathetic look on his face – “With Shin-chan, you know? How- I mean. The both of them.” and then he went quiet.  
Shingo’s hand landed over the head of the bassist almost with a thud. People react to problems by approaching and trying to solve them from the easiest to the hardest; Shingo’s policy was to tsukkomi them and eventually hoping they went away. Maru didn’t flinch though and the next thing Shingo knew was that the hand of dandy guy was already on Yoko’s shoulder and the man had already made his acquaintance – acquaintance, for fuck’s sake! -  falling for him while Shingo was too busy to put a little bit of common sense in the head of his coworker to pay attention.  
Yokoyama opened his eyes with a slow motion, they were a bit unfocused and were spacing a little too much around the studio, but they were undoubtedly awake. He also adjusted his position over the couch, closing his legs and putting both hands over his knees. His movements reminded Shingo that time when his little brother decided to try job hunting and somehow ended up spending the whole evening sat on the cushion of his bedroom and working over his posture – at least, trying to not resemble a monkey well dressed.  
The guys stared silently at them, eyes darting from one man to the other, and Maru made a strange, strangle sound. Shingo felt his hand moving by his own accord and hitting the back of his head.  
\- Yokocho, how do you feel? – Yasu asked.  
\- Whoa! I- WHOAH! – and that was pretty much the accurate description of Yokoyama Yu about the delicate hypnosis matter.  
Shingo’s eyes met Subaru’s ones, trying to put in one single stare all his thoughts about the whole experiment (“If you expect me to keep this crap on you’re wrong” “I didn’t ask for this” “Maru should just get a fucking laid and stop drooling over mine and Yokoyama’s penises”) and so Subaru decided to take his place for the segment. He didn’t get Shingo’s subtle hints though, just watched his eyes becoming bigger and bigger until they reached the size of a coin and his mouth opening and closing a couple of times. It was his duty to keep the show on before one of his closest friend had a break down.  
\- “And about Hina? How do you feel about him?” – he asked gently, almost holding back his voice as if he thought using a high-pitched tone could break the thin balance of Yokoyama’s sanity.  
As if suddenly aware of his presence, Yoko turned towards Shingo and his mouth opened into a half smile – the croaked teeth well hidden and a little of white showing between his lips. It was awkward and shy and pretty much all the things Shingo didn’t expect coming from Yokoyama during a talk show.  It made him feel uncomfortable.  
\- Oh. I love him. – was his simple answer and Shingo could almost hear Maru gasping at his back (“That guy needs to get a fucking laid” the little man in Shingo’s head said and Shingo for the first time agreed).  
There was a roar of laughs in the studio (from the guys) and a couple of screams (from the fans, but mostly from the guys) and Shingo just yelled at all of them to shut the fuck up and not make such a big fuss over a man who had clearly lost his sanity.  
Yoko clicked his tongue in annoyance.  
\- “What?” Shingo asked. Years and years of never ending practices had taught him how to dance and, spending his few days off watching his senpais hosting varieties on varieties, how to entertain people using the lowest and the dirtiest topic on earth and do a pretty decent job at the same time.  
But now things were different. None of his senpais had to host a show while having to face the angry remarks of a wannabe hypnotized-future-wife (TOKIO maybe, that group was as fucked up as Eitos were) and Shingo highly doubted starting to dance could improve somehow the situation. Or it could. Maybe not in the way Shingo expected.  
\- “Stop thinking lightly of me.”  
\- “I’m not thin-“ -  
\- “Just because your species only know how to mate it doesn’t imply others are the same. I am serious.”  
\- “Are you?” Shingo asked letting his eyes wandering over the info folder (still too many shit to get trough),  
unimpressed by the flinch in Yokoyama’s voice. It was still too early in the morning and he was way still too mentally sane to pay attention to the whines of a person whose brain was controlled by someone with a beach all over his hair.  
So, somewhere in the back of his mind someone (the little man?) took the decision to act as the pro Shingo was and keep up the charade, waiting for the dandy guy to fix the whole shit and for the show to come back to its usual and reassuring bullshits, such as Maru and his monologues about the importance of keeping a whole stock of porn magazines or Subaru hosting his stupid game with his freaking wig slipping all over his body. Shingo truly didn’t care as long something would make Yokoyama stop looking at him as if he had personally drowned all his puppies.  
A couple of minutes. Just a couple of minutes.  
\- I am. – and this time Shingo almost didn’t know what to retort. There was something bothering him in the way Yokoyama spoke to him, his voice firm, the body stiff and that sparkle in the dullness of his stare trying to shine anyway just to let Shingo know how serious and determined Yokoyama was.  
It bothered Shingo because he had already the chance to meet this stare once in the past. It was the day when Johnny discovered about Subaru’s tattoo and voices about Subaru leaving the whole Eito project started to spread in the Jimusho as if floating on the thin air. It was also the day when Yoko entered for the first time uninvited into Johnny’s office and stared fiercely at him with the same eyes, silently challenging the man to screw up a whole group just because of a bit of ink. That’s all Shingo remembered about that day. Not the arguments or the fear for Subaru. Just a simple stare.  
Even now he knew it was kind of stupid but Shingo never thought of himself as a intelligent person. He mostly worked on instinct, not intelligence.  
And instinct that day told Shingo to try to escape from the situation as any other host in his shoes: laughing it off and then ignoring it for the next hot topic on the list, which happened to be their guest’s preference for cats instead of dogs. He was already reading the title of the segment, eyes focused on the info folder, when suddenly the first kanji started to tremble, followed by the second and third one and soon even the plastic under all the papers. Shingo stopped the talk for few seconds and stared at his own hand. He found it still, the grip around the folder firm and steady.  
But then it was the turn of his thighs and his feet and before Shingo had the chance to realize it, his instinct had kicked in first making him move fast, one hand over the sleeve of Yasuda’s pullover and the other searching for Maru’s sweaty hand behind the head of the couch. His eyes darted from the guys to the fake wall at their back, full of heavy craps and totally unsteady, to the big, black screen dangling and swinging over their heads and his voice came out desperate, screaming instinctively for Subaru’s name – the oldest, one of the three in charge of the others. Old habits are hard to die – and then it was all an interrupting screaming of “earthquake!” “earthquake!” and “move!”. Yoko was the first one to react though, grabbing Subaru by the collar of his second hand shirt and pushing him towards the opened side the studio with all his strength, jumping right after him. The vocal lead landed on his hands and stared for a moment at the older one, mouth opened in a funny way.  
Yoko muttered a breathless “never mind” the exact moment Nishikido tripped in one cables of the camera and fell at their feet, face on the ground, his right hand still closed around Ohkura’s one in one of the worst rescue in the history of catastrophic rescues. It was in that exact moment the last cable decided to break, making the screen finally falling with a loud crush on the ground, glasses flying all over the studio.  
Shingo was the first one to lower his arm. His eyes went for a moment at the ceiling and he briefly wondered if the staff had enough time to take all the people out of the studio before the next shake. Then Yasu’s voice reached him, all concerned, broken and insecure “the screen. …the hypnotherapist” and Shingo suddenly realized he had something more important to take care of rather than salving lives.  
The realization came with a jolt the exact moment Yokoyama touched his arm, holding it tight and asking Shingo if he was injured with the eyes as dumb as before.  
Fuck.  



End file.
